Fruit Flies.
The mysterious case of the hot summer curse.
I had a pleasant start to the day. I didn't wake up to a single alarm which is quite usual for me when they’re buzzing on my wrist at 6 in the morning begging for me to come alive after 4 hours of sleep. I spent the previous night procrastinating a shower that I damn well knew I had to take but hesitated anyway. It’s always such a commitment and I’m so heat intolerant I end up sitting down after I shampoo my hair. By the time I practically crawled out of the sliding glass doors it was midnight. A couple hours before this I was trying to get into a book that I’ve already tried reading before. Little me wanted to annotate random lines that had no meaning and stick tabs in for the fun of it. I’d call it more than distracting now when I have to pause to ignore all of the helpless scribbles along the sentences. Because this was hopeless and my brain hurt from finishing ‘When the Moon Hatched’ in the morning I figured I needed some screen time.
Cue me searching on Amazon Prime for the film ‘Beautiful Boy’. And now I’m simply devastated. Pulling at my heart strings in all the right yet wrong ways, there’s so many things I took from those 2 short hours. Two way too short hours. I need more, I always do. And now the matching memoir sits in my Amazon cart in hopes it will be purchased some time after my birthday. My boyfriend needed deodorant. He ran out a week ago and I had an inkling he started using mine as the level it was at before was not quite matching up. The self-care aisle is shackled up, open for the first time since I’ve moved here with a name tag adorning man standing guard. We spend a good 10 minutes scaling the options. Ranging from fourteen to nine dollars depending on the amount of aluminum it contains, it all seems so ridiculous. It’s all so romantic.
Now we’re at 1 in the morning and the dishes are being done. I don’t like sleeping alone too much so I’m patiently waiting for them to be finished while scrolling through social media, curled up in my comforter that’s ridiculous to still have on the bed this time of year. The electric bill has been ran up so much this month just because I refuse to sleep in a muggy environment but somehow it’s too cold in the mornings. So the A/C blares and my eyes are feeling droopy and I have all of these magnificent ideas swarming through my conscience all of the sudden. I’m remembering things I forgot from years ago and re-living times I’m happy to sit in for just a moment. I’m writing things in my notes app in hopes they don’t jumble around too much in time for the next day.
We’ve been having a fruit fly problem and can’t figure out where exactly they’re coming from. After cleaning the kitchen counters until they’re sparkling, dumping old food out of the fridge, and tackling the mountain of dishes, they still don’t seem to want to go away. They’re all content flying around feasting on something we aren’t aware of at all hours of the day. While dumping boiling water down the drain multiple times a day, they’ll get up in our faces and remind us that they now call our apartment home too. I figured it’s just the summer, it’s hot outside and they’re in here because it’s just what they do. I was very wrong. Rotting fruit sat atop an abandoned suitcase in the living room for weeks. Discovered just this morning, the smell must’ve been unbearable. Wafts carried up to my nose as I inspected the crime scene sitting below me adjacent to our front door, thrown there by my boyfriend trying to get everything out with as much haste as humanly possible. It wasn’t cleaned up until later when my roommate came home to pack for his trip to the east coast.
I’m exhausted, mentally drained from being lectured for still not doing enough at work. For not continuing my engagement for the brand at home and my lack of talking to every woman who passes our fishbowl windows. I flop on the bed and ponder where I went wrong, what I could fix, how I could be better. I think up of other ways I can make money right now, my bank account sitting at a total of $30 that I feel every waking moment. I’m sad for myself but I’m angry at myself but I’m proud of myself all in the same breath. I’m confused and unmotivated and lacking in more ways than one. My small accomplishments are pulled out from under me like they were never awarded in the first place. And I feel like a fruit fly. Not needed but existing. Eating but still hungry. Annoying but there.
Current Playlist: (I’m sad and need to nurture this feeling)
Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey
Little Freak - Harry Styles
House Song - Searows
I Was All Over Her - Salvia Palth
Fade Into You - Mazzy Star
Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridgers
Like Real People Do - Hozier
Journal Excerpts:
‘It’s been a hot summer. Maybe not as muggy as the East Coast but certainly boiling my skin away when I reach for the lock on my front door and even when I sit in an air conditioned car.’
‘I have nothing better to do with my free time than to digest more words than any human being should be able to in a week with little to no bathroom breaks.’
‘It’s (my bookshelf) in need of more room within its confined space, sprawling closer to the popcorn ceiling by the day. Larger and larger stacks form after each holiday filled with anything from thriller to romance.’
‘Something (a book) you open and want to underline because it’s something you never want to forget. I feel like I’m just playing catch up in the world of titles and new book smells. Compelled to read things other have had in their collections for years, enjoyed so much the spine is breaking and coffee has been spilled.’
Book Wishlist:
Normal People - Sally Rooney
Just Kids - Patti Smith
The Glass Castle - Jeannette Walls
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
The Virgin Suicides - Jeffrey Eugenides
Mystery Lights - Lena Valencia
Beautiful Boy - David Sheff
Call Me By Your Name - Andre Aciman
The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky